


The (Christmas) Shoes

by TheStrange_One



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [12]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fun, Laser Guns, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, as in Peter becomes a toddler, genuine age regression, plot snuck in somehow, well about four years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me,A baby spider, a blackout in a snowstorm, a goblin king tale, a doppelganger, a Santa replacement, a postal run, a caroling, a blue snow, a fairy tale, and a cute Spideypool story.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: 12 Days of Christmas [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568926
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96





	The (Christmas) Shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goose_Goddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goose_Goddess/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [CheekSmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekSmile/pseuds/CheekSmile). Log in to view. 



> Yes! Last one, folks!
> 
> Little backstory--I used to love this trope. It used to be everywhere. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I read mission: Baby Peter. And I just had to. I just *had* to. I hope you enjoy.

“To your left, Spiderman!” roared Captain America.

“I know!” came the return yell as Spiderman miraculously twisted his body midair to avoid being hit by not one, not two, but _four_ laser blasts. One of the beasts aiming for Spiderman, who was doing his best to act as bait, turned with a low hiss.

The things were about six feet tall with pebbled, reptilian skin. Their long forearms scraped against the ground as they moved, and the lasers on their backs flickered. One of them opened a mouth with a low hiss and a string of saliva connected the pointed upper teeth to the pointed lower teeth.

“Just once, can’t we be attacked by something _easy_?” whined Tony through the coms. The creatures, whatever they were, were surprisingly good at dodging the blasts coming from his hands.

“Steady, Stark!” yelped Hawkeye as he was almost hit with one of Tony’s blasts.

“Watch out!” Captain America grunted as he was suddenly shoved out of the way by a firm hand and looked up—just in time to see Spiderman get hit by one of the lasers that the reptilian things were shooting. The light outlined the hero for a moment before sinking into him. As the light dimmed the hero gasped and fell to his knees.

“Kid!” screamed Tony as he flew down to where Spiderman was.

Captain America kept an eye on the creatures—whose only action was to huddle close together and then leave. He was torn between the twin desires of chasing down the enemy and getting his fallen comrade out of the line of fire and safe. The latter won and he turned to help Tony take Spiderman into his arms. Out of them, he could get to the Tower the fastest. As Spiderman began to shake and groan, it became clear the costumed hero desperately needed help.

By the time Steve got to the Tower he saw that the other members, the ones that hadn’t gone with them, were waiting nervously. Natasha was sharpening a knife. Wanda was pacing. Bucky was casually tossing a knife in the air and catching it with his human hand as he stared into space, face utterly blank.

“What’s the news?” Hawkeye, or Clint asked as they walked into the room.

“They’re not sure,” Wanda said. She shuddered. “Spiderman…” her voice trailed off and she shuddered again before she resumed pacing.

“He’s shrinking,” Natasha reported as she tested the edge of her knife on a hair. She grunted before taking the whetstone to it again.

Steve blinked. He couldn't have heard that correctly. “He’s _what_?” he asked.

“Shrinking. By the time Stark got him here the suit was starting to fall off.”

Steve raced for the med bay, heart pounding. He remembered Spiderman giving reports, saying that there was something strange moving in the city. Something that needed investigated. No one had paid attention until the portal opened up. Was Spiderman going to die because they’d been too slow?

“Steve, help me with this!” Steve turned to see that Stark, partially in his suit, was trying to manhandle a large tub full of green goo. Without breaking stride Steve grabbed half the tub. “Thanks,” grunted Tony. “We’ve got to get the kid in this. FRIDAY!”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Contact Spiderman’s emergency contact.”

“Right away, Mr. Stark.”

“What is this?” asked Steve.

Tony grunted as the doors slid open to one of the rooms. “Short answer—energy absorbing goop. I’m hoping it’ll suck whatever is messing with Spiderman out of him. Bruce!”

The scientist loped forwards, small form in his arms. Without ceremony he dropped the form, swaddled in Spiderman’s suit, into the tub. Steam hissed around the figure blocking Steve’s view.

“Sir? Deadpool appears to be taking issues with our security guards. Should I tell them to bypass the checks?”

Tony’s head jerked up and he stared at the ceiling as the steam slowly cleared. “What? Why is that lunatic here?”

“He is Spiderman’s emergency contact, Mr. Stark,” the computer system replied.

“Why?”

The question belonged not only to Tony, but to Steve. As far as he was aware, Spiderman never treated Deadpool with any more trust or affection than he did the Avengers. Why would he have made Deadpool his emergency contact?

The man in question burst into the room, guns in both hands, whites of his mask almost comically wide. “What happened?” the man demanded. “Where’s Spidey?”

A loud, piercing wail erupted from the vat of goo.

Wade’s gaze darted between the men, still holding his guns. He didn’t shoot them, because Peter would hate it if he shot them. He liked these people, for whatever reason. Must be science related.

[Or, hear me out here, he _could_ actually like people without needing a reason.]

Wade grimaced at the thought. “Well?” he demanded. “Where is he?”

“That’s—complicated,” Goatee said slowly.

Mr. America sighed. “We were fighting these strange lizard people and Spiderman got hit with a beam from one of their guns,” he explained.

Wade’s heart seized. “Is he okay?” he demanded thinking about his boy, his sweet baby.

[Do the Avengers know who Spiderman is? Because they don’t seem to.]

Mr. America began to shift from foot to foot. “Well, he—he kind of seems to have—shrunk.”

“We put him in a vat of energy absorbing goo,” Goatee explained.

“Ooo—like that stuff from Josh Kirby Time Warrior?” asked Wade.

“What?” asked Mr. America.

[What?]

“Never mind,” Wade said flippantly. “Point is, I just want to know he’s—”

“Pool!” screamed an excited voice as a little kid slammed into Wade’s side. He looked down into the eyes of a kid a quarter of his size in a shirt so big on him it looked like it was falling off his shoulders.

[Wade, do you know any four year-olds?]

“Hey there little guy,” Wade said bending down. “Do I—know you?” he asked curiously.

The boy giggled and began climbing the suit. _Literally_ climbing the suit—like Spidey climbed walls. He reached Wade’s neck and smacked a kiss against his cheek. “Of course you know me!” he said cheerfully.

“Deadpool.” Wade could practically hear Iron Britches shaking in rage.

“Don’t look at me,” Wade protested, panicking. “I’m just as lost as you are!”

The older, curly-haired brunette of a doctor came out wearily. “Spiderman, you need pants,” he said wearily. The boy blew a raspberry at him.

[Did he just call this kid Spiderman?]

“Spidey?” asked Wade, confused as he looked at the boy now perched on his shoulder. The boy giggled and hugged Wade’s head, blocking his vision for a moment. “What’s going on?” Wade asked.

“Big lizards!” said Little Spidey. One hand formed a gun. “They went _pew pew_ ,” the hand changed to a more bladed form, “whoosh—pow! Ow.” Peter grinned.

_Now_ Wade believed this was Peter. They’d worked out the shorthand together years ago, when they’d been making up a code no one could crack. “Lizards with laser guns got you? And you shrunk? Painfully?” asked Wade for clarification.

Peter yawned, stuck a thumb in his mouth, and rested his torso on Wade’s head. “Can we go home?” he asked. “I’m tried.”

“You mean tired,” the doctor corrected absently. “Yes—well, he has all his memories, and I think his powers,” the man said eyeing the little boy warily. Wade wondered what had happened in the lab before Peter ran out. “He’s just filtering them through a four year-old brain.”

“Is this a good idea? Because this feels like a bad idea. A very bad idea. Hey Shorty,” Tin Can said as he looked at the boy on Wade’s shoulder. “How about you tell us who you are so we can get family to pick you up? Real family?”

[I thought they knew who Spiderman was.]

Wade had too.

“No!” said the boy, petulantly.

“Come on, Little Guy,” Tin Can pleaded. “This guy isn’t safe to be around.”

Harsh—but true.

“No!” The boy wrapped Wade’s head with one arm and pointed at Iron Man with the other. “Don’t be mean to ‘Pool!” he ordered.

[Well—he’s still protective of you. Do _you_ know his identity?]

Wade rolled his eyes. Of _course_ he knew Spiderman’s identity. He’d even thought his name a page ago! “Well,” Wade said looking at the kid, “I know there are going to be some people who are _very_ interested in this turn of events.”

Baby Spidey, knowing exactly what Wade was talking about, giggled.

“Come on Spidey,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah!” said Baby Spidey in excitement.

“Wait!” called Iron Douche. “You _live_ together?”

Baby Spidey just giggled.

Wade looked around his apartment. At the knives, guns, and other things littered all over the place that little hands shouldn't touch.

[You can’t possibly set him down here. Do you know how much of a hazard these things are?]

True. Actually, the whole apartment was a hazard, now that he thought of it. “How do you feel about going to see Aunt May?” he asked Baby Peter.

Baby Peter threw his hands up in the air. “Yay!” he yelled.

“Let’s go!”

Aunt May stared at the toddler racing around her house, literally climbing walls and jumping off of them onto the couch and recliner. “What happened now?”

Wade shrugged. “Science shit,” he said. “I don’t understand it, but it must be important for the plot.”

“Wade!” Peter launched into him. “Pew pew Wade!”

Wade quickly crouched down as Aunt May, familiar with their code, flung herself to the floor as bullets tore through the facade of the building. Peter, unlike a normal four year-old, waited patiently, without screaming or crying, as the bullets tore through the building until they stopped. Then he rose from his crouch. “Wait a minute!” Wade said firmly as he grabbed the shirt Peter was in. “You’re too small!” he protested.

Peter wriggled out of the shirt, blew a raspberry at Wade and darted out the front door.

“He always was an active tot,” Aunt May said calmly. Too calmly, despite everything she’d seen and heard from the two of them over the years. “I think I still have his clothes from when he was that size. I’ll look after you save the shooters from the horror of being attacked by a naked toddler.”

Wade leaped to his feet and rushed out the door.

Wade, carrying the hapless Baby Spider like a football, crashed through the doors of Sister Margaret’s. “Who knows about children?” he demanded desperately. Baby Peter blew him another raspberry—but at least he was fully dressed this time.

[You brought. A _child_. To a _bar_.]

“The fuck Wade?” demanded Weasel as he looked at the squirming kid.

“That’s a bad word!” Peter said somberly, pointing at Weasel from his position in Wade’s arm.

Most of the patrons burst out laughing. A couple of them started a competition to see what words they knew would upset the kid the most. Wade was almost ready kill all of them.

[Let’s not traumatize the child, shall we?]

“ENOUGH!” Wade shouted. He didn’t know if it was the raw frustration in his voice that made everyone stop what the were doing and stare at him.

Baby Peter pat him on the arm. “It’s okay, ‘Pool,” he crooned. “You’re safe.”

Wade looked at the little kid in his arms and thought about how he’d pulled the kid from the middle of a firefight, buck naked and webbing random people. He wasn’t worried about _his own_ safety. “Yeah, sure,” he said as he pushed through the crowd to the bar and put Baby Peter on it.

“That’s not sanitary,” Weasel points out.

Wade rolled his eyes. As _if_ Weasel cared about sanitary procedures. Hell, he probably poisoned half of the drinks he served on purpose, just for kicks. “I need help.”

Weasel sighed. “Clearly,” he said dryly. “Come here, Little Guy,” he said grabbing Baby Peter and pulling him across the bar. “Let’s just—where are your shoes?”

Baby Peter’s face tightened into a scowl. “I don’t like shoes,” he said thunderously.

[Do something! He’s about to throw a tantrum!]

Wade mentally shrugged. So, the kid would throw a tantrum. What was the big deal?

[He’s superpowered you idiot!]

Oh. Right. Wade should intervene then.

Before he could Weasel just said, “S’alright. I don’t like Star Wars.”

Wade gave an elaborate gasp. “Heresy!” he cried.

Weasel just snorted as Baby Peter calmed down. “All right kid, I’m sticking you in the office. Watch TV.”

“You have a TV in there?” asked Wade as Weasel went to a room behind the bar.

“It watches the bar. Why the fuck to you have a kid Wilson?”

“Well,” admitted Wade. “It’s a long story—”

[You can’t tell him. He might figure out who Peter is.]

“—that I can’t go into. I—” He was interrupted by an odd chirping sound. “What’s that?”

Weasel frowned and grabbed his shotgun. “Good question,” he said grimly as Wade hopped behind the bar to follow him to the office. Weasel opened the door—and they both stared.

Baby Peter was in the office chair holding a red and blue spider as large as he was. When he saw them his face lit up and he said, “’Pool! Say hi!”

Weasel thumped his shoulder with a fist. “You’re on your own buddy. I need a drink.”

First thing Wade learned about Baby Peter: Do Not Leave Him Alone. Every time he was alone, a giant spider would appear from nowhere. They weren’t the same spider either; he could tell by the way they were different colors.

Second thing Wade learned about Baby Peter: Do Not Give Him Applesauce. Apparently he couldn't digest it? Poor kid was on the toilet crying and shitting while Wade was frantically calling an amused Aunt May who said that if he was having trouble with applesauce again to be sure not to give him carrots.

Third thing Wade learned about Baby Peter was that he liked to hide on the ceiling. Wade would turn around, turn back—and poof! Baby Peter was gone! He started to search the room frantically when he heard a giggle from the ceiling. He looked up—and saw Baby Peter up there, giggling.

When he finally put Baby Peter down for a nap he got online and wired two million to a babysitting charity for low-income parents.

Baby Peter was just as smart as Adult Peter. He suddenly looked up in the middle of playing with his blocks (empty magazines) and said, “Who are you talking to?”

Wade, who couldn't lie to Peter to save his life, said, “Preston. She’s a SHIELD agent who died on a mission I was working with them. So, to save her life, they uploaded her into my head until her new robot body is finished.”

[And I can _not_ wait for that to happen.]

Before Wade could go any further with his explanation he got a phone call. “We’re pinned down by the lizard people again!” America shouted at him.

Wade hung up and picked up Baby Peter. “The plot demands us!” he said.

[Do you honestly think that taking a _child_ into a situation that the _Avengers_ are having trouble with is a good idea?]

“If it wasn’t,” Wade reasoned, “the author wouldn't let me do it.”

[Wade, you are insane.]

“Yup!”

“’Pool!” cried Baby Peter. He pointed. “Pew Pew!”

Wade turned to see that there were a bunch of henchmen heading towards them, guns out. “You sit here,” Wade told Baby Peter as he stashed the kid behind a dumpster. “I’m going to go ki—talk to these people.” Given the scowl on Baby Peter’s face the kid knew what he’d almost said, but the silence told Wade he wasn’t going to complain. Maybe he’d learned something trying to attack those people who’d shot up his aunt’s house.

Wade walked towards the henchmen. One of them shot him.

“NO!” screamed Baby Peter. Wade whirled to see him glaring at the men. He screamed again.

The street _boiled_. Huge spiders the size of Baby Peter popped up from cracks in the street and Peter pointed at the henchmen. “Bad men hurt ‘Pool!” he cried. The spiders surged forward.

[Remind me not to piss him off.]

Wade could only nod. How long had there been giant spiders living under the streets of New York? Why didn’t anyone know about it? There were stories about _alligators_ in the sewers for crying out loud! And why were they all insanely bright colors?

Soon all the men were cocooned and one of the spiders walked up to Baby Peter and ran a foreleg over him. “I know!” said Baby Peter cheerfully. The spiders then vanished the same way they arrived _fixing the road behind them_.

[Well, now we know why no one knows they’re here.]

“Oh—kay,” said Wade thoughtfully as he looked at the world around him. Then he quickly grabbed Baby Peter. “To the plot!” he announced. Baby Peter giggled as they went into the warehouse—to see a familiar face. “Zhegon!” he called, automatically switching to the lizard’s native tongue while still speaking English because his author didn’t feel like writing hisses and hiss translations. “{How’s it going, Buddy?}”

“{Ah, Wade. I see you have the sticky one.}”

Wade was many things. Stupid wasn’t one of them. “{You’ve been firing translation [guns] at people,}” he said. He shook his head. “{I told you not to do that on Earth. On this planet those are deadly weapons.}”

“{How are we supposed to come to a trading agreement if our species cannot speak to one another? And your number changed, so we were unable to get hold of you.}”

“Wilson,” barked America, “you know these—people?”

“I could almost get offended on their behalf. Cap, meet Zhegon. Zhegon, {meet Captain}. Those guns they’re shooting at you are translation guns, designed to pop a language into someone's head. That what got Spidey?”

“Pew pew!” agreed Baby Peter.

“{Is that the sticky one? Why did he shrink? Is it something your species does?}”

“{Something about the translation [gun] did it to him,}” Wade explained.

“{Oh, no! He must have some kind of mutation.}” The lizard looked contrite.

“{Yeah, you’ll find a lot of humans do,}” Wade said.

“{Please, let us help make a cure for the sticky one!}”

Wade relayed the offer and Captain A offered and hand towards them. “We would be grateful for the help,” he said as Wade translated.

Less than a week later Wade waited for Baby Peter to turn into Adult Peter. He had (somehow, by the grace of the author who just wanted this story to end already) Wade had gotten the serum that they developed to fix Peter, and gave it to him when they got home. After Peter had changed back the two of them were sitting on the couch.

“So, uh—why didn’t you want to wear shoes?” asked Wade. The tantrum when Aunt May had tried to put them on his feet had been epic, if only for his super strength, and he hadn’t stopped until he’d accidentally broken some of Wade’s bones. Aunt May had simply said that he hadn’t liked them much the first time he was four, either.

Peter rubbed his face wearily. “When my parents left, the last thing Mom did was put my shoes on. And they never came back.” He leaned back against the couch. “After that, I was afraid that if someone put shoes on me, they wouldn’t come back.” He gave a weary chuckle. “Stupid, right?” he asked with a wry smile.

“No,” Wade said as he sank onto the couch. Peter made a grabby motion and he slid closer to his boyfriend. He stroked Peter’s hair. “It’s not stupid at all.”

Peter rested his head on Wade’s shoulder as he slung his legs across Wade’s lap. “It feels stupid,” he confessed.

“It’s not,” Wade assured him.

[This guy has some trauma, doesn’t he? Ask about the spiders.]

“So, about those spiders,” Wade said.

Peter chuckled. “The spiders. Right. Well, about a year and a half after I became, well, _Spiderman_ , I was fighting The Lizard underground when his equipment accidentally opened a portal to another world and the spiders just _flooded_ into the sewers. Then, when the portal closed and they realized there was a seven-foot monster in the sewers that could kill them, they tried to escape. I have no idea where they’re from,” Peter admitted. “But the spider bite allows me to talk to them, and according to—well, there is no way to actually pronounce the spider’s name, but its position is tribe leader, I think? Anyway, after I beat the Lizard the tribe leader came to me and said that they were fleeing an inhospitable world and begged to be allowed to stay here. I asked them what they eat, and it’s rats.”

“Oh. I _thought_ it was odd I hadn’t seen any around,” Wade said, marveling at the new information.

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. I never told the Avengers about it, because they don’t eat humans and I was afraid they see the spiders as something to be eradicated.” They sat in silence for a moment. “What’s the deal with the lizard people?”

“Well, you remember how I told you I was married to a space hippo? One of her contacts was on this lizard people planet and at first I thought it was a place made for just me in mind until I realized that the guns everyone was carrying were designed to shoot someone with the mother language and it was a merchant city.” Wade chuckled and rested his head on Peter’s. “I got shot sixty-seven times. And despite explaining what guns are to literally every other part of the galaxy, they still don’t believe it.”

“Wow,” said Peter.

“Yeah.” Another calm moment of silence. “But if you love your life, never point a knitting needle at them. I’m serious Petey; it’s lucky I’m immortal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to All!
> 
> And to all a good night!


End file.
